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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590084">Sweet Liar</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Aki/pseuds/Lady_Aki'>Lady_Aki</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, Older Man/Younger Woman, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:21:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,612</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Aki/pseuds/Lady_Aki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"As she revealed her body, she felt her heart pounding frantically against her rib cage. A small voice shouted at her to stop, to go back to her room, to await marriage and a spouse worthy of her title. She didn't want to be a good girl any more. She no longer wanted her title. Everything she wanted was standing in front of her. And this time she would get it. And so would all the other times to come. Since the age of reason, they had been dictating her behaviour, shaping her into a perfect wife. It was with an irrepressible desire for freedom that today she swept away all these maxims. Those of her mother. There was no more room for the righteous in Westeros."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sweet Liar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23190670">Doux menteur</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Aki/pseuds/Lady_Aki">Lady_Aki</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This one-shot will soon be five years old. Reading and correcting it was an enriching experience for me, it allowed me to measure the extent of my progress! I hope you'll like it ;) English isn't my mother tongue, I apologize in advance for any mistakes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   <em>From the beginning, I know he's lying to me. From the moment we met. His words are a sweet poison that I drink without restraint. He has a taste for power, ambition, desire. The desire to obtain everything, to possess everything. Including me.            </em><br/><br/><br/>   "So, where are we going? To a place of trust?"           <br/>   "To a land so far away from here that even Cersei Lannister cannot reach you. "            <br/><br/>   At the thought of this name, a shudder of fear paralysed her. Her whole body tensed up. She lowered her eyes, staring at Petyr's gloved hands.            <br/><br/>    "Do not be afraid, Sansa."     <br/><br/>   With a reassuring gesture, he placed one of his hands on one of the young Lady's. He would never allow the whore of King's Landing to lay her sharp claws on his beloved queen of the North.  <br/><br/><br/>   <em>When I turn my back on him, I feel his piercing gaze running down my spine and lingering on my hips.</em>  <br/>             <br/><br/>   Sansa stood in the centre of her room, facing the window. Her hands tied, she was expecting a visit from Lord Baelish. The latter had requested a private meeting during lunch. What did he desire? This question never ceased to torment her.               <br/><br/>   A knock on the door startled her. The young woman quickly turned around to face the newcomer and nervously began to smooth the imaginary folds of her dress. The door handle swung open, revealing a man dressed in a long dark tunic, the collar adorned with a brooch representing a mockingbird. His elegant waist was marked by a belt made of gold. He closed the door. For a moment which felt like hours, he stared at her without saying a word. Had she done something wrong? <br/><br/>   "Ramsay is already madly in love with you."  <br/><br/>   Surprised, she raised her vivid blue eyes, dreading the moment when she would meet Petyr's gaze.<br/><br/>   "If Stannis Baratheon's army fails, then you will marry this boy and make him yours."<br/>   "I don't know how to do that."                   <br/>   "Of course you do."   <br/><br/>   Embarrassed, she looked away, wringing her hands with a worried expression. She could not seduce a man for whom she felt no affection.     <br/><br/>   "My Lady." He whispered in the hollow of her ear. "You are in a delicate situation where I can hardly help you."                    <br/><br/>   The Lord of the Vale was now at her side.      <br/><br/>   "Every woman holds the key to her own success." As he inhaled the delightful fragrance emanating from his protégée's hair, he gently grasped her hands and faced her. "Sansa, you hold more than just a simple key. Unlike a queen you once rubbed shoulders with, you don't need to undress to seduce. Your innocence and beauty are enough to make your suitors fall at your feet."          <br/>   "Lord Baelish..." Blushing, she looked away again.               <br/>   "Petyr. Do not forget it." He smiled at her.                 <br/><br/>   She smiles back at him. His hand tenderly caressed the young woman's chin, before stroking her cheek rosy with shyness. It was then that he sealed their lips. The Lord kissed her delicately, fearing to frighten her. She was so naive, inexperienced. As he struggled to keep his composure, he saw Sansa's hand, hesitantly touching his chest. He took it gently and encouraged her to touch him. She was at first embarrassed, unaccustomed to intimacy with a man, before her hand instinctively grasped Petyr's tunic. His composure shattered. His arms encircled her bust, pressing her against him. The kiss became more passionate, more ardent. Despite her lack of experience, she still responded to it. She tried to keep up. She drove him crazy.          <br/><br/>   Nothing was limpid any more. He drove her crazy. Nothing counted except that moment, except her lips against his, her hands on his waist, her body against his. She felt herself burning with a longing passion. It soothed her, while at the same time fanning her flames. Never before had she felt such sensations. Intoxicated with love, Sansa embraced Petyr's neck with her arms. <br/><br/>   They kissed until passion finally gave way to tenderness. They remained silent for a few minutes, enjoying their proximity. It was the Lord of the Vale who broke the silence first.                      <br/><br/>   "You will get this boy." He broke away from their embrace so that he could see her face. "I have no doubt about it."    <br/><br/>   The Lady joins her hands, concerned. <br/><br/>   "What if... I don't want to make him mine? "She replies, in a hesitant voice. "What if I don't desire this man?" She looked fearfully into his eyes.   <br/>   "There are many things we do without wanting to. Do you think I wanted your aunt? If I hadn't kissed her, if I hadn't fucked her on our wedding night, wouldn't she have suspected my true intentions? Would we still be alive? Would you be able to return to Winterfell? Sansa." He grabs her shoulders. "Nothing will stop you from getting rid of this man if you succeed. But right now you need him." <br/><br/>   <br/>   <em>His warm breath on my neck arouses in me unavowable desires. Perhaps I am not as innocent as I pretend to be.</em>        <br/><br/><br/>      Night had just fallen. Sitting on her bed, Sansa was brushing her hair. She remembered Petyr's words. After all, what was the sacrifice of her virginity compared to her homeland? She had cried too much, she had hid too much. This had to stop. Lord Baelish had helped and saved her many times. She could not allow herself to act like an ungrateful and immature child. However, although she had grown up, she was still young, and she was not yet ready to take charge of her own life. As long as Petyr was by her side, she would feel safe.    <br/>   <br/>   Suddenly, her hairbrush hit the floor. She hurriedly left her room and crossed the long corridors that separated hers from the Lord of the Vale's one. She entered without knocking, distraught by her own thoughts which never ceased to torment her. When she went in, the first thing she saw was Petyr, with his tunic open, looking at her in amazement.        <br/><br/>   "Sansa?"       <br/><br/>   She immediately closes the door. Her breathing was shaky, her hands sweaty, her gaze panicky.<br/><br/>   "What's happening?" He got closer to her.           </p><p>   "If I marry Ramsay, will you leave? Would you be allowed to stay by my side?" Her voice was uncertain, frightened.  <br/><br/>   Surprised, Petyr observed her for a moment, then a smile appeared on his face. An amused smile.<br/><br/>   "What if I wasn't allowed to?" <br/><br/>      Sansa looked deeply into Petyr's eyes. As she tried in vain to find an answer to her questions, he slowly approached her.      <br/><br/>   "What would you do?"               <br/>   "I won't let you go." She replied immediately. <br/><br/>   He joined his hands.  <br/><br/>   "How would you justify your whim?"   <br/>   "I will lie."         <br/><br/>   With his right hand, the Lord of the Vale brushed one of the young lady's hair strands.                   <br/><br/>   "Will you be capable of it?"           <br/>   "I learned from the best."       <br/><br/>   With a slight sly grin on her lips, she put her hand on Petyr's. She was majestic, more so than her mother ever was. He gently took her hand and kissed it affectionately.          <br/><br/>   "Are you trying to drive me wild, Sansa?" He stared at her with amusement.   <br/>   <br/>   She lowered her head.        <br/><br/>   "...Aren't you already?" She asked, hesitantly.             <br/><br/>   With tenderness, he grasped her face in his hands and made her look at him.   <br/><br/>   "You know the answer."            <br/><br/>   She certainly knew the answer. He was about to kiss her when she turned her face away. She wanted to hear it.                <br/><br/>   "I want to hear it." She challenged him with her eyes. <br/><br/>   By the Seven, she provoked him. Petyr smiled and flattered the lady's cheekbones with his thumbs.  <br/><br/>   "What would you want to hear? That you are the woman I think about night and day? That you are the one who occupies my every thought?" He slid his hands along her body, caressing her neck, brushing her bust."That you are the only woman I desire so much?" He gently grasped her waist and bent down to whisper in her ear."That you are the only woman I love?"          <br/><br/>   Yes, that's what she wanted to hear. More than anything else. She wanted him to tell her over and over again, so that his words would never leave her. She would fall asleep at the sound of his voice, she would wake up rocked by his love. She would live only on his sweet attentions, only on his sweet flattery. She would forget the pain, the sadness, the mourning. She would forget who she was, why she was standing here, because of whom. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking. Sansa was prey to amorous emotions. <br/><br/>   Petyr was delighted with the view that his protégée gave him. She was so sensitive. He drew her in his arms in a tender embrace, then, while closing his eyes, he gently pressed her lips against his forehead. As he affectionately caressed her waist, he felt the young woman detach herself from his embrace.<br/>She was looking for his gaze. A shy smile appeared on her lips as she crossed his deep blue pupils. Delicately, she took his face in her hands, lingering on its masculine lines. She lightly traced the contours of his features, savouring the intimate closeness between them. Sansa looked at him as if it was their first encounter. His ebony hair reminded her of a raven's plumage, his silvery locks the nuance of the sky on a rainy day, and his eyes seemed to want to draw her into the depths of the abyss. His nose was straight, his lips thin, his beard pepper and salt groomed. With the pulp of her fingers, she touched the corner of his lips. The latter fuelled her desire. The desire to drop the mask. To hell with morals and good behaviour. To hell with Ramsay Bolton. She wanted him more than she should have.     <br/><br/>   Skilfully, she grasps the key and locks the door. The Lady shyly removed the ties of her dress one by one. As she revealed her body, she felt her heart pounding frantically against her rib cage. A small voice shouted at her to stop, to go back to her room, to await marriage and a spouse worthy of her title. She didn't want to be a good girl any more. She no longer wanted her title. Everything she wanted was standing in front of her. And this time she would get it. And so would all the other times to come. Since the age of reason, they had been dictating her behaviour, shaping her into a perfect wife. It was with an irrepressible desire for freedom that today she swept away all these maxims. Those of her mother. There was no more room for the righteous in Westeros.          <br/><br/>   Sansa was now naked, her clothes lying at her feet. The self-confidence she had been showing for a few minutes suddenly seemed to be shaken when Petyr's eyes began to wander through her nakedness. He was devouring her with his eyes. Her exposed skin exacerbated the flame of his desire. She was certainly not the first naked woman he had seen. As the owner of a brothel, he had been given the opportunity to admire all that nature had had the pleasure of giving him. To claim that he had only admired them would be an odious lie. He had sometimes consumed his own merchandise when it was to his liking. However, the Lord of the Vale could not compare his Lady to one of his whores. She did not overly smell a superficial fragrance. She shuddered with apprehension and fear of the unknown. In spite of her daring courageous outburst, she remained exquisitely shy. Her cheeks had taken on a slightly pinkish hue. Her gaze seemed to want to flee from his. As best she could, she refrained from hiding the evidence of her femininity.                <br/><br/>   "My dear, you are beautiful..." He murmured, stroking his rosy cheekbone with his thumb. "Look at me."<br/><br/>   She obeys. They were so close. She could feel the caress of his breath on her lips. Sansa quickly felt his mouth fall against hers, their breaths now becoming one. Petyr gave her a slow, languorous kiss of remarkable dexterity.    <br/><br/>   While he was trying to drive his delicious lover mad with lust, he gently grabbed her hair and tilted her head back. He immediately abandoned her lips in order to conquer her neck. He led it with an iron fist, sucking, biting, licking the delicate skin that blushed under his assaults. Sansa shivered, sighed, caught off guard. His second hand gently caressed the young woman's chest. He took a nipple between his index finger and thumb and began to tease it, drawing further sighs from his lover. Petyr's lips soon joined his fingers, greedily sucking on the hardened nipples as he emerged victorious from his conquest.<br/>Sansa moaned, her hands pressing his head against her. All these sensations made her lose her mind. It was far beyond anything she had ever heard about love. Her sex was throbbing.             <br/>   <br/>   As Petyr gazed lustfully at the young woman's wet crotch, he slipped his hand between her thighs and began to caress her lips soaked with desire. Against all expectations, she began to undulate her hips sensually, whispering her pleasure in a lascivious groan.                   <br/><br/>   From then on, he knew that he could no longer temper his ardour. His cock was painfully tense. He only aspired to one ambition, to take her. The Lord of the Vale led his lady to his bed. A glimmer of apprehension, as well as fear, appeared in Sansa's eyes. In no time at all, she was lying down, ready to be sacrificed on the altar of desire.          <br/><br/>   Lying beside her, Petyr caressed her lovingly, giving her tender kisses. He wasn't going to devour her. You didn't devour what you'd longed for, you savoured it. He took off his tunic, carelessly letting it fall out of the bed, before pressing his body against that of his lover. He shamelessly claimed her lips, fiercely devouring them, making her whimper with complacency.   <br/><br/>   "Petyr..." She moans against his lips.  <br/><br/>   They unconsciously pressed against each other, increasing the blood pressure and desire in their groins.   <br/><br/>   "Sansa." He gently grasps the young woman's thighs. <br/><br/>   He looked her in the eyes, seeking some glimmer of rejection, or approval. A shy smile was his answer, a tender embrace was his invitation.         <br/><br/>   When Petyr penetrated her, Sansa could not hold back a complaint of pain. Her innocence was flowing between her thighs, along her buttocks. It gave way to the lover, to the effervescence that accompanied it. Just as innocence gave way to lust, pain soon gave way to pleasure. After a few minutes of languorous exchanges, the Lord of the Vale began to move. The first movements were slow and methodical. He observed and analysed the young woman's reactions to these intrusions. He was soon able to deduce that she was far less innocent than she appeared. Who would dare to think that the shy, elegant, sweet Sansa Stark had a penchant for brutality? The high-pitched little cries she made as he pounded her would not contradict him.         <br/>            <br/>   An ecstatic pleasure suddenly took possession of his being. An almost primal moan escaped from her lips as she was obscenely arching her body.      <br/><br/>   <br/>   <em>Are your feelings sincere?</em>     <br/><br/><br/>   "He seems happy."           <br/>   "Shouldn't he be?"                 <br/><br/>   Roose Bolton led the way, shortly preceded by Petyr Baelish.           <br/><br/>   "I assure you, she is still a virgin." He solemnly declared.       <br/><br/><br/><em>   It doesn't matter how true our words are as long as our voice doesn't tremble</em>.            <br/><br/><br/>   "Tyrion never consummated the marriage, so she is no man's wife."    <br/><br/><br/>   <em>Sweet liar.</em>     <br/>              <br/>   <br/><br/>  </p>
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